


My Dear Damien

by princecaviar



Series: Goodbye, My Dear [2]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe: Mark Dies, Angst, Damien is not in a good place at all, Drug Abuse, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, M/M, No fluff to be found, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23030728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princecaviar/pseuds/princecaviar
Summary: What if the Manor hadn't been there to catch Mark the first time he fell?
Relationships: Celine | The Seer/Mark Fischbach (Past), Celine | The Seer/Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel (implied), Damien | The Mayor/Mark Fischbach
Series: Goodbye, My Dear [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655203
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noxstories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxstories/gifts).



> So I'm back on my bullshit! This is a companion piece for my work "Goodbye". I continue to place the blame for this on my friend Nox, whom I have gifted this work. Major, major warnings here folks. The first three paragraphs are Mark killing himself. Beware, all ye who enter. Happy reading <3

It didn’t take that long to prepare, in the end. A chair filched from the dining room, the belt of his favorite robe tied in a slip-knot, his shirts scattered across the floor- leaving the bar in his wardrobe empty and free- and hastily scribbled note left on his desk.

He hummed as he set everything in place, some mindless tune that he was fairly certain he’d picked up from Damien. He let out a choked laugh at that thought and started to set up faster.

It was done before long. Mark gave the belt an experimental tug, nodding in satisfaction when it held fast. Good. Hopefully, it was enough to hold his weight without breaking over time. The belt, that is. The bar itself was metal, welding to the sides of the wardrobe. That wasn’t breaking any time soon. Mark stepped up on the chair, brushing a hand against the belt almost affectionately, as though it were a beloved pet. He slipped the knot around his throat, starting to hum the cheerful tune again as an almost electric feeling filled his body. Taking a steadying breath, Mark kicked the chair out from beneath himself.

* * *

Damien stared blankly at the paperwork on his desk. He just couldn't get himself to focus, often catching himself staring off into space for minutes at a time. Last night's... _events_ continued to plague him, a tight knot of guilt sitting heavily in his chest. Maybe Mark had been right, maybe he _was_ over-reacting. But God, the things the Entity had done... No. Damien definitely made the right decision, even if it was a difficult one. He wouldn't stay gone forever though. Just for a week or two, to show Mark how serious he was. Yes, that sounded like a perfect plan. Let Mark think for a few weeks, let him realize how bad things were. Then he would come back and everything would be okay again. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. Why couldn't Mark have just listened to him? Damien was startled out of his thoughts by a knock at his door, followed by Patty opening the door.

”Hey there Mr. Mayor," she said kindly, not missing the expression on Damien's face. "Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, Patty," he reassured her. "I'm alright. Just- having a hard time focusing is all." Patty nodded in understanding.

"Alright then. I'll bring you some coffee in a few minutes, yeah?"

"Sounds good. Thank you, Patty."

"Of course, Mr. Leroy," she said, then walked back out. Damien smiled after her, his mood brought up just a little. Patty was an absolute treasure; Truly Damien didn't know how he had gotten along without her. He snorted. Actually, he did know. And the answer was terrible. He shook his head, reaching over to turn up the radio. He always listened to it in the morning, wanting to know exactly what was happening in his city.

"...And unfortunately, Ladies and Gentlemen, this morning we have some terrible news. Early this morning, famous actor Mark Iplier was found dead in his Los Angeles home, of an apparent suicide. He was discovered early this morning-"

That, of course, was as far as Damien got before he screamed, the tight knot of guilt transformed into a white-hot lance of grief. Patty came rushing in, frantically asking what was wrong, but all Damien could manage to say was, "Mark-" before bursting into tears, folding in on himself. Oh God. Oh  _ God _ . Mark was  _ dead _ , he was  _ gone _ , he was never going to see him again-   
  
“No word has come out yet on when Mr. Iplier’s funeral will be, but rest assured that we will inform all you listeners as soon as we know. We here at KLBC station give our most sincere condolences to his family.”   
  
Patty put a hand up to her mouth for a moment before rushing towards Damien, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Leroy, I’m  _ so _ sorry, my God.” She put a gentle arm around Damien’s shoulder, drawing him towards her. He sobbed into her shoulder, the pain and grief overwhelming any kind of true thought. His entire world had just been shattered.

He cried into Patty’s shoulder for a good few minutes, though it felt like  _ hours _ . After a few minutes his tears began to subside, if only because he was running out of tears to cry. He pulled back from Patty just a little bit, wiping at his eyes with shaky hands when a true thought popped into his head-

**_This was his fault._ **

  
_He_ had done this. He had left Mark all alone with that _thing_ and either Mark hadn’t been able to handle it, or that fucking **_thing_** had killed him. Either way, however, it was Damien’s fault. He had left Mark all alone with it, he had _abandoned_ him. He was no better than William or Celine, really. How could he have _done_ this? He had essentially _killed_ Mark. Damien hunched in on himself, drawing his arms around himself tightly, body shaking with dry sobs. This was his fucking fault. He had done this. He had gotten Mark killed. And the last thing Damien had ever done was break up with him. He didn't kiss him, he didn't tell him that he loved him. He broke up with him and broke his _heart_ and left him _alone_ and got him _killed_.  
  
...He was a monster.


	2. Chapter 2

To my dear Damien-

I hope in my heart of hearts that you will not be the first to read this note. As awful as it may sound I would so much prefer that it be Benjamin or one of the staff, for if you are the first to read this, then you had returned in the middle of the night only to discover me. It would mean that I had been too hasty in my actions.

I want you to know, my dearest, that you can not and should not blame yourself for this. I believe in the end that this is for the best. I can not stand the thought that I may hurt you any longer. It is terribly selfish of me, perhaps, to do this. But I must confess- I could not stand the thought of continuing on when it is so obvious that I am incapable of properly loving someone. I have managed to drive away everyone. William, Celine, and now you.  
  
And if I have managed to make you hate me, dearest, then I am doing something terribly, terribly wrong.

So truly, this is the only real solution. Taking myself out of the picture entirely. You'll be alright, won't you dearest? You'll be better off without me. ~~Give Celine and William my love, won't you? I don't hate them.~~

Love always, 

Your Mark


	3. Chapter 3

It took three weeks before Damien could muster up the courage to contact William and Celine. Three weeks that Damien spent  _ lost _ in a haze of alcohol and drugs, unable and unwilling to drag himself out of it, to face reality. To face the fact that Mark was  _ dead _ . And even after those first three weeks, when Damien finally came to talk to William and Celine, he turned up totally drunk on their doorstep at 3 pm.   
  
“My God-  _ Damien _ ?” William was completely bewildered, concern colouring his voice as he ushered Damien inside. “What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“Not in the fuckin’ slightest,” Damien slurred, stumbling as he collapsed onto a couch. Celine approached him cautiously, shooing William into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. No one knew how to deal with Damien when he was like this better than Celine.   
  
“What happened, petit frère?” She asked, voice as soft as was possible for her. Damien shuttered, tears forming in his eyes as he began to speak.   
  
“It’s Mark,” he began, and he could see the anger forming in her eyes already so he shook his head despite the nausea it sent through him.

“It’s not like that,” and he could feel the tears starting to clog his throat and choke him, as though his body was trying to prevent him from saying the words aloud.

“I- I was just going to be gone for a few weeks,” he said desperately, trying to make sure Celine understood that he didn’t mean for this to happen, that this was never supposed to have gone so badly. “I just wanted to make him  _ see _ , I just wanted him to realize how bad things had gotten, that was  _ all _ !” 

“Petit frère, please, just tell me what happened. I understand, Damie. Really. Just tell me what happened.” Celine was trying so hard to be soothing, but the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach was growing by the moment. William slipped back into the room, carrying a glass of water and a worried look, setting the glass down on the end table next to Damien and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Mark’s  _ dead _ ,” Damien managed to force out and Celine’s eyes went wide. “I just  _ left _ him and now he’s  _ dead _ and I didn’t even- he thought I  **_hated_ ** him,” and Damien’s words are cut off by sobs. Celine’s on the verge of tears herself. She had left Mark close to a year ago by now but the news of his death still  _ hurt _ , still cut right through her as surely as a knife would. She said nothing but instead pulled her brother into a tight hug, her own tears starting to flow.

William, for his part, was silent as well, his face blank. Internally, he was having a complete breakdown. He and Mark had gotten along awfully in recent years, yes, but now he was  _ gone _ . William’s  _ brother _ , whom he had loved more than anything despite his claims of hatred or indifference. He was  _ gone _ . And there would never be a chance at reconciliation, never another  _ word _ exchanged between them. Ever.

Gently, despite his shaking hands, William took both of the twins in his arms, pulling them close. 

And together, the three of them grieved for a man who had died not knowing just how loved he still was.


End file.
